“I’m demanding one,” I corrected. “Unless you’d prefer to spar in front of the full executive committee and lose. I want you to show me one person who hasn’t fat-finger pushed a button on a report in their entire lives.”
His jaw shifted. “Very well.” He reached for his keyboard. “You’re aware this will cause a ripple. They’ll want a post-mortem.”
“I’ll lead it. I have nothing to hide.” I waited, silent, until he’d finished drafting whatever apology-couched-as-corporate-update he was about to send. He read it aloud, voice smooth as a scalpel: “Upon further review, the projected variance in Ms. Reeves’s Q2 report has been substantiated with additional pipeline evidence. The matter is resolved.”
He looked at me. “Satisfactory?”
“I’d have preferred ‘my mistake,’ but I know that’s not in your vocabulary.” I arched an eyebrow at him, loving the way his eyes narrowed just a fraction of an inch.
He clicked Send. “Would you like to add an addendum?”
“Not unless you plan on learning the words ‘I’m sorry’ in the next ten seconds.”
A long, tense pause. Then: “Sorry you had to waste time on this, Eliza.”
It was something, I guess.
I let it go.
I moved to leave, but he caught my eye again. “You’re efficient,” he said, almost musing. “But you could do more with less.”
“Is that a compliment, or a threat?”
He folded his hands, considering. “An observation. You don’t delegate. You don’t trust the tools provided. It’s effective… until it isn’t.”
I rolled my eyes. “Spare me the management seminar.”
He shook his head. “I’m not trying to manage you. I’m trying to understand why someone so smart makes herself work twice as hard.”
My skin prickled. “Maybe I just enjoy being rightandbeing able to prove it.” Translation: I’ve had to work twice as hard to get half as much credit as my male counterparts. There’s a reason woman in my position is known as ice queens and bitches. We have to be, or we get trampled by those on their way to the top.
“I don’t doubt it,” he said.
He stood, not tall enough to intimidate, but with a kind of focused gravity that made him seem taller. “If you’re done here, I need to prepare for the audit.”
I paused at the door. “Next time, Valor, try asking first.”
He didn’t answer, but as I pulled the door closed behind me, I caught the faintest ghost of a smile in the reflection. Not smug, almost... intrigued.
The office outside was freezing, the glass walls all the more transparent after a battle of attrition with Gabriel Valor. I walked the corridor, head high, and every eye that looked up from their screens flickered away just a little too late. I wondered how many of them thought I’d caved. How many assumed the golden boy had cut me down. Or how many of them thought I’d slept with him to gain favor.
With a disgusted curl to my lip at the thought, I replayed the confrontation as I walked. The way he’d tried to corner me. The way I’d cornered him back. The way the air had felt… hot, strange, like the moments before an electrical storm.
My phone buzzed. Unknown number.
I thumbed it open.
You’re right about the contracts. Congrats. –G
No actual signature, but I recognized the cadence. I almost threw the phone, then laughed. Instead, I texted back.
Next time, check the data before you waste my time.
No reply.
I grinned. It was ugly and beautiful at the same time.
I stopped by the glass-walled breakroom, poured myself the last inch of bitter coffee, and watched as Gabriel stalked past on his way to the conference room. He saw me and nodded, that weird, infuriating micro-acknowledgement.